


Work Wife Imbalanced

by nonky



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: "So you thought it was a good idea to come here," he asked, "-asking me to get my wife to make a conjugal visit to somebody I put away?"





	1. Indecent Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> A very silly, pretty AU Rich Dotcom cameo from prison, set in early season two.

"Mr. Dotcom has a request."

Kurt Weller did his best not to sigh out loud, but honestly couldn't hide his disdain. Richard Dotcom was more trouble in prison than auctioning weapons and state secrets. He was also, undeniably, becoming a valuable source of information for the CIA and the FBI. 

There had been deals to place Rich in a nicer prison, along with his boyfriend and cohort, Crab. There had been other deals for amenities in his cell. A coffee maker had bought the name of a passport forger. Expanded mail order privileges had gained a location housing darkweb servers. As the senior agent involved in his arrest, paperwork crossed Weller's desk every time Rich made a deal for an extra scoop of ice cream. 

He stared down the CIA agent, and hoped this time it was something ridiculously risky no prison could allow. A quick no was the fastest way to move past Rich's requests. 

"What," he asked sharply. The CIA agent was a man named Mewes. He had even less sense of humour about Rich than Kurt did. He didn't seem stupid, exactly, but he hadn't been humiliated yet by Rich's schemes. He didn't know to be suspicious of everything. 

"Mr. Dotcom would like a visit, in person, in the prison's private room. He is offering what he claims is a very large stockpile of unsold explosives," Mewes said calmly. He was as stoic with Weller's attitude as he seemed unmoved by Rich's bizarre phrasing. 

"I'm busy," Kurt said, letting a smile out because it felt nice to ruin Rich's plotting. He didn't blame Mewes for trying to do his job, but he wasn't going to fall for this again.

"Mr. Dotcom wants a visit from your wife, Agent Weller. I took it as an . . . off-colour remark initially, but I was told your wife does work with the FBI. I looked up public records and couldn't find a Mrs. Weller, or I would have contacted her more directly," Mewes said, shrugging slightly. "I presumed Mr. Dotcom was referring to your common law significant other, as opposed to your legal spouse. And I informed him he would lose privileges for threatening or harassing a federal agent or any family members of that agent."

Weller felt his face set in a kind of cheerful rage. Being angry at Rich was clean-burning and never lasted long enough to trouble his sleep. He wouldn't worry about the motivations behind Rich's demands. He wouldn't feel hurt when reasonable amounts of trust were met with plotting. 

If the ravings of a criminal were his biggest problem, Kurt would gladly embrace Rich's distractions to his work. He needed to find some relief after things had gone so wrong.

"So you thought it was a good idea to come here," he asked, "-asking me to get my wife to make a conjugal visit to somebody I put away?"

He was trying to respect the CIA agent for the professional peer he was. Rich and his silly opportunism inside the justice system made it hard not to judge. It would have been infuriating to have his real wife delivered to a prisoner in trade for his overstock bombs. This situation was definitely planned to aggravate his wounds from Jane. 

"I don't mean any disrespect to your relationship, Agent Weller," the other man said quickly. "It's my job to use Mr. Dotcom's incarceration to the benefit of society. If I had found your wife's name in your file, I would have contacted her through her supervising agent."

The knowledge his buttons were being pushed didn't remove the reaction. Weller grimaced as he realized this was going to become an issue unless he corrected Mewes. And he sincerely hoped Jane gave an ironclad no to visiting Rich. Neither of them needed more of the prisoner's guidance on the way back to their previous bond.

"I'm also her supervising agent," he grumbled. "Rich thinks it's funny because he met us undercover as a couple. He gets an insane amount of enjoyment out of imagining romantic motives in normal interactions. I won't have him taunting my agents."

His job used to be much simpler when Mayfair had to filter all the nuisance meetings. Weller stood up and waved Mewes to follow. 

"I'm going to let you ask her if she'll go, but I'm not making it an order," Kurt told him. "If Rich wants entertainment so badly, he can hire a circus act to prison. Jane isn't to be used."

His stride was perhaps a little angrier than warranted, and the CIA agent had to hurry behind him. 

"Mrs. Weller will be treated respectfully. I realize I can only ask her to cooperate to assist our work," Mewes agreed, backing off a step at Kurt's glare. "I'm sorry if she uses her own name. I wasn't able to identify her by it. What should I call her?"

"She goes by Jane, and you can leave out the soap opera delusions from Rich. Ask what you need to ask and let us get back to our work."

The team was monopolizing the conference room. Patterson had found a cipher she thought might work on multiple tattoos. Her computers were running the coding, but some were too graphic to be easily matched. The science team had joined in to teach a basic understanding of cipher use, and now the room looked like study hall. Every person was hunched over photos of tattoos and notepads wild with scribbled attempts. 

A man with a visitor's badge disrupted the quiet. People sat up straight and smoothed out their hair. Jane blinked at Mewes with a distrust Weller felt like a weight in his gut. 

"Jane, it's nothing to worry about, but Agent Mewes with the CIA would like to ask a favour," he told her, letting her know she had the option to turn him down. 

Her graceful push away from the table was a little tense. Jane nodded, which was no surprise. Her specialty now was making up for before. She paid attention and said yes to whatever the team needed her to do, much to Kurt's discomfort. 

"Hi." She was meek but her eyes skimmed the man carefully. 

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," Mewes said, holding his hand out to shake. "I am sorry to intrude. Should we go to another room?"

Weller wanted this over and done. He let Jane shake Mewes' hand but positioned himself to the side. 

"I trust my team to be discreet with what they hear," he said. "This should be a short conversation, Agent Mewes. Let's not make it more than it has to be."

"Of course," the CIA agent agreed. "Mrs. Weller, I have been meeting with Rich Dotcom to negotiate for his intelligence and stolen goods. He would like you to visit him in exchange for some explosives."

Jane hunched her shoulders and looked at the floor. "I'm not - Please don't call me that."

The team had stopped work to watch the disaster the CIA had brought to his office. Weller grumbled to himself, and while he tamped down the urge to yell, the baffled Agent Mewes continued. 

"I'm sorry, I mean Agent Weller. I didn't mean any disrespect to your title. It has to be confusing with two Agents Weller, from time to time. I'm sure you have a shorthand I'm not privvy to, and I just wanted to be clear."

Patterson was flushed with empathy, her face half-turned away. Reade had picked up his pen and was trying to pretend everything was normal. Zapata let a muffled chuckle escape, but it wasn't a happy sound. 

Pleading now, Jane held up her hands. "No, my last name isn't Weller. I'm not offended and I'm not an agent officially. I don't deserve the title," she said miserably.

Weller stepped up and between Jane and Mewes. He gave a dark look and said, "She goes by Jane Doe. She's a consultant with the FBI, not an agent."

The man looked horrified, and Weller realized her name raised more issues. He was probably exuding more murderous rage than was good for his professionalism. He should herd the CIA agent and Jane back to his office and get things settled, but the man was just not shutting up long enough to get them there.

"You make your wife go by 'Jane Doe.' Agent Weller, you seem to have a lot of concerns about her safety. The visit will be supervised closely and I can assure you we do not allow the prisoner free. Is there some kind of threat? Is Mr. Dotcom a danger to your family," he asked seriously. 

Jane was gathering herself to clarify things, but her hesitation allowed Weller to go first. 

"Jane, can you please give him an answer before I have to shoot myself," he said starkly. 

She looked at him for a full three seconds, frowning at his irritation. "Agent Mewes, I won't meet with Rich. Everything is fine, I'm very safe here. I'm sorry you had to make the trip for nothing."

Weller put his hands lightly on her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze of appreciation he knew hadn't fixed any of the misconceptions. "You don't have to apologize, because it's a bad idea," he said, glaring at Mewes. His expression when he looked back at her was apologetic. "I'm sorry we interrupted you."

His prompting look made the CIA agent rush to say, "My apologies, Ma'am."

Jane nodded and went back to her seat, obviously rattled as she tried to get back to work. Kurt sighed and led Agent Mewes away with long, angry strides. He wasn't even going to help this guy out and explain they weren't married. Mewes would just have to get the hard knocks version of working with Rich the FBI had to endure. 

Hell, if Mewes showed up looking for his 'wife' again, Kurt decided to tell him about all the times Rich hit on Jane and throw a chair to freak him out.


	2. Mewed Up in Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Forgive me if our trip to let Rich hit on you from prison isn't utterly professional and dignified."

It was less than a full minute before a quiet knock sounded at his door. 

Kurt often wondered why anyone thought transparent walls would be a good idea for a job that involved secrets. As much as he liked to be able to see what he was up against, Jane was standing there with trouble twitching at her heels. He didn't mind seeing Jane, and she really was owed some better apology than his muttered words. 

Agent Mewes was one step behind her, looking wide-eyed as they stared at each other through the glass. Kurt was certain the impression he had made was of a brute bullying a woman who didn't have the option of dumping him with scathing justice. It was difficult to explain how he was always yelling at Jane, but he would never yell AT Jane.

He forced his body at ease, dropping into his chair and waving her inside. He could be courteous to the man ruining his day because Jane was obviously there to change her answer. She had that conscientious worry arch rumpling between her eyes. 

"Hi," she began sheepishly. "I stopped Agent Mewes by the elevator. I think I would like to try to help."

Kurt nodded slowly, savouring the way Mewes took far too long to actually enter the room. Jane sat down and looked over her shoulder, and only her cue was enough to get the man seated. 

"Every precaution will be taken, Agent Weller," Mewes told him earnestly. "Jane will have a panic button and there will be guards nearby with direct access to the room and a live feed to watch. Shackles will be used for the prisoner. We have a larger room that has separate tables well out of reach."

Rich was dangerous with his words and his typing, not his physical strength. The crazy hacker seemed to genuinely like them as people, and none of his plotting had ever put them in more than the danger they faced on a case. 

"You've been getting my title wrong all day," he replied lazily. "It's Assistant Director Weller."

He gave a moment for Jane to hide an eye-roll and Mewes to start to sputter. Then he leaned back and waved it off. 

"I don't care about titles. Respect comes from understanding what you're asking of someone, and appreciating their efforts accordingly. Jane, did he approach you after you said no," he asked sternly. 

"It was my idea. I was thinking about it, and it's really not that bad. I'll be fine. If Rich is fooling us again, I'll catch it. We'd have wasted a little time, but we could save lives," she said.

"The CIA doesn't have any authority over you to ask favours," he said plainly. "And I don't want you to be misled into thinking you'll be getting a favour in return."

Jane nodded, her face remarkably calm for someone who had been tortured by that same agency a few months ago. 

"I know how much damage those explosives can do in the world," she said. "And I remember the trouble with Rich on our last visit. I'll talk to him, once, and anything after that is up to the CIA to use his information."

Kurt nodded. "Okay. I knew your mind was made up before you came in. I'd like to throw a chair across the room and be terrifying, but that doesn't work on you, does it?"

Mewes was pale again. Jane turned to him with a pleading gesture. "He's kidding. He's not terrifying and he would never throw things," she said. "Rich has burned bridges with us a few times and he always seems to turn up to cause trouble."

"Mr. Dotcom can be a challenge to one's patience," Mewes said primly. "I appreciate this, Jane. I will be there to streamline the security measures and make it as painless as possible."

Kurt cleared his throat, crossing his arms aggressively. He was much more comfortable with the CIA agent tiptoeing around him, and treating Jane with all the delicacy of a museum dusting a Ming vase. 

"Jane, I have at least two write-ups for throwing furniture," he said. "As for pain, Agent Mewes, a papercut would be an unacceptable risk. Jane goes in happy and she comes out probably having had to punch Rich in the face."

He turned to her with a smile and added, "We can go back to that restaurant you liked for lunch on the way home."

Her twinkle of surprised pleasure was quelled as she glanced at the CIA agent watching them with open curiousity. He was wise to keep his mouth shut as Jane bit her lip and nodded. 

"Only if we have time," she said, her tone warm. "Do we need to do anything to be ready?"

"I imagine your security clearance is sufficient, if you've visited before," Mewes told her. 

She frowned. Her security clearance had been dropped down to getting into the building and working with the team's supervision. Weller didn't enforce it much, but he'd had to leave Jane out of some meetings to keep up the act. 

"I don't have my security clearance anymore," she said, looking at Kurt.

"I'll be there, you'll use mine," he told her, scribbling the level on a note he pushed across to Mewes. 

"I have to admit confusion," the CIA agent said. He took the note and his eyes widened. "It's more than enough, but doesn't Jane have some autonomy? Consultants are typically contracted and receive conditional access to what they need."

Weller smiled dangerously. "She does have access through me, and as you've seen it's substantial. You don't have to understand. And I'm okay with you thinking I'm a possessive monster as long as you keep her safe on this visit."

Jane was getting more uncomfortable every time he played up the protective husband act. He relented for her sake. 

"Jane is one of a kind. Whatever confusion you feel, she'll get the job done. Let us know the day, and please drop that note in the shredder," he said. 

"Of course. I'll contact you both with the details," Mewes said, his body moving fast now that he was free to run away. 

Jane flicked her gaze to the ceiling, and then to Weller. "That didn't look like inter-agency cooperation to me," she noted. 

"Forgive me if our trip to let Rich hit on you from prison isn't utterly professional and dignified," Kurt said ironically. "I have to find my spare cleaning kit so I can be cleaning my gun when Mewes comes back with those details."

She shook her head and hid a smile. "Okay, I'm going back to work now."

 

The day of the visit was odd. Jane arrived at work dressed more formally than he'd seen her except on undercover operations. Her black jacket covered a blouse with small geometric print. Her dress pants made her look taller, and her shoes were polished. Her short hair was styled straight, and pinned into an orderly fall. Every article of clothing was still black, but she blended in with the agents around her fairly well. 

Kurt had put on his darkest suit, prepared for a trying day. He was polite to Mewes, but had no patience for any lapse. The whole visit had been stage directed in writing ahead of time. Rich had rules to follow, and Jane had safety guidelines. The prison was focusing all available staff on the visitor's rooms and canceled all other visits at the same time. 

Everything was set to go well, and it was going to be a nosebleed of a day. Kurt had toyed with giving the rest of the team a day off and having them in on a weekend to catch up, but then he'd decided he wanted them on call. Rich was innovative. He could get into literally anything if it created the distraction he needed. 

"Good morning," Jane said nervously. "I didn't know how to dress. It's kind of weird how this much build-up is bothering me. I mean, it's just Rich. He likes us too much."

"Caution is a good thing, and Rich is disgusting," Weller said. "If you want to walk out of there, do it. The CIA can make another deal. Maybe he'll want a hamster next, or a waffle maker."

She nodded. "I'd pick a kitten, but that's just me. I'm ready to go when you are."

They walked to the elevator, Kurt sending a look to Zapata and Reade to let them know he was handing over the office to them. They nodded and Edgar waved, both of them skilled at noticing when their boss was in a Jane Doe obsessed headspace. Mentally, he was at the prison and running through the mission second by second. 

"You look nice," Weller said, gesturing for Jane to get in the elevator first. "I mean, I hate that you dressed up for Rich Dotcom, but you're allowed to punch him. It's self-defense. I'll back you up."

"You're really never going to forgive him for suggesting a threesome, are you," she joked. 

"A man's marriage is a sacred thing, Jane," he said seriously. "And it's one thing to test the waters, one time. I'm not going to pretend I haven't flirted with a woman whose date left the bar for a minute. Rich doesn't give up on it, even after he knew we weren't interested. Hell, he'll hit on you today if I let him and he's literally locked into a relationship with Crab."

She tilted her head. "Do you think his name is really Boston Arliss Crab? Did they give themselves silly name changes together?"

Kurt chuckled. "Who knows with those two. I mean, I'm not sure you should be judging, Jane Doe."

She frowned. "That one was hardly my idea," she said sourly. "No one asked for a suggestion."

His eyebrow raised, and he nodded. "So?"

"I could pull off Inky Epidermis," she said casually. "Drive us to prison, Grumpy McStubbles."


	3. Matter of Reinvention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, if you kissed me right now, Stubbles would fly into the sexiest jealous rage I'd wager you have ever seen," Rich whispered.

"Oh . . . look at that," Rich said brightly. "That's new! It's a little art nouveau for me, but it's a look."

One whole wall had been chopped into three sections, the middle stripe replaced with a mirror of one-way glass. It was newly plastered but badly painted, as if the prison had been forced to do the bare minimum in not enough time. 

The room was larger than Jane had thought, obviously meant to be a conjugal suite but stripped back to a table and two benches. Everything was bolted to the floor, the table wide enough no one could reach across it easily. She was supposed to follow the maze of taped red lanes on the floor, while Rich was marched in chains through another blue tape path. He cooperated as he was sat down and the shackles were joined to another length that attached him to the table.

"You look good, Janie," Rich said sincerely. "You could have brought the mister in with you. I'm sure he's somewhere nearby pacing like a big, grumpy tiger waiting to pounce."

The last time she'd seen him, Weller was on the other side of the mirrored window. He'd looked ready to jump through, shifting his shoulders as if he wanted to stay limber for the tackle. Jane made a point to nod blandly, and give a polite greeting. 

"Hello, Rich. I'm glad you're doing well, and I think it's a good thing you're helping the government disarm terrorists," she said. "Weller is a little less glad you're doing well, so he didn't come in. I thought it would be - friendlier."

The hacker was nothing if not persistent. He recognized the smallest opening and smiled with a little leer.

"You know, if you kissed me right now, Stubbles would fly into the sexiest jealous rage I'd wager you have ever seen," Rich whispered. "And if he didn't, even sexier to make that Rich Dotcom sandwich with a little white bread."

"He wanted you to be wearing a shock collar," Jane said seriously. "I had to talk him out of turning the car around twice on the way here."

"Kinky, kinky Stubbles," Rich preened. "I like to think my influence has unlocked a little of that fire."

"All of it. He's not jealous. He's just pissed off I'm doing this. What did you want to tell me? Other than the various ways you've thought to suggest an orgy."

"You're so precious - three isn't an orgy and they wouldn't let me include Boston. But I did have other business. I've been working on your memory problem. It's sort of a good news, bad news thing."

Rich actually looked genuinely anticipatory, like he'd been given a task for her approval. Jane glanced at the mirror and he caught her. "Hi Kurt! You know you're welcome in here, buddy. I've missed you!"

Rich leaned in with a big smile, his hands folded together. He gave a little bounce as she acknowledged him with a nod. 

"The good-ish news is I found your granny! The ick is that she seems to be a scummy apartheid supporter who slithered away when the regime fell. The best of it is she's dead!"

Jane didn't have any memories to make that revelation hurt. She knew she'd had family at some point, but the years between made a tiny hope of reconciliation feel hollow. She made a face, because now she suspected her grandmother might have participated in her parents' murder. She wasn't sure if that was morbid, but it would fit with the tragic turns her life seemed bent on taking. 

Rich looked over his shoulder at the glass as a distant thump could be heard. He mugged a noose, brushed off his shirt theatrically and turned back to Jane. "Oh, yeah, and you're due to inherit the blood money if you can get your paperwork to show you're Alice Kruger. Great work, right?"

"Rich!" Kurt was in the room, ignoring the carefully taped floor sections and looking ready to breathe fire. "You don't have the right to meddle in Jane's life and drop news like that on her. I didn't bring her here to amuse yourself with cruel games."

They were in the only embrace Rich would receive from Weller, a hoist from his chair by the shirt and a raised fist. "Hey, it's not like that! I wanted to help. I don't need to stop at the boundaries that hold you back. I'm sure you gave it your all, but my all is a little - you know . . . "

Rich brought his hands up, palms flat to measure the space between. Then he moved them further apart to indicate an increase in size.

"I mean, girth is also important, and we all care about you as a person," he said. "I'd kill to have your abs, but I like eating. You bring a lot that's special to the table."

Kurt and Jane had both been thrown off by Rich's crudeness, and they moved at the same time to enact and prevent violence respectively. 

"Kurt, don't hit him."

"She loves both of us equally," Rich interrupted, smiling cheekily.

"Do you want him to beat you," she asked, exasperated. 

"No. but a little bit of me is like 'it's just crazy enough to feel soooo good."

Rich was finally getting to be in a sandwich with them, except Jane was trying to pry him free before the red of his face gave way to the blue of suffocation. He was on his toes, and the shackles had to be very painful. 

"They'll fire you," she pleaded. "He's not worth losing the team."

Weller let go and Jane pushed Rich down on the bench. Mewes must have been holding back the guards, or their response time was dismal. She put out a hand and Kurt took it gently, making eye contact as he shook his head angrily. 

"I'm sorry. What kind of insensitive jerk would break the news like that," he said, his head tipping nearer. "Are you okay?"

"I didn't know her. It's . . . sad, but I don't miss her either," Jane said. She pulled him to sit next to her, giving the prisoner a warning glance.

"She wasn't really our kind of people," Rich said, obviously feeling the lack of involvement as a horrible burden. "I wanted to give back for all the beautiful times we three have had together. Do you guys remember your last visit? That was before Crab was here, and I was pretty lonely-"

"Could you shut up for a minute, Rich," Kurt asked sharply. "You just told Jane her grandmother is dead. It requires a moment of silence, if you're capable of that."

"Yeah, of course. Janie, do you want me to hold your other hand?"

She tucked both hands into her lap and looked around the room as they two men looked at one another; Rich with pleasure and Kurt with frustrated rage.

"Ah! I feel better now. That was cleansing," Rich babbled. "I'm sorry I couldn't dress up for you guys. You both look so cute and matchy. I'm stuck in this orange jumpsuit, and I'm pulling it off with my big personality alone."

Jane fixed him with a strong look, her eyes wounded. "Rich, you keep saying you like us, and then screwing us over," she said. "But it would be very hurtful if this was some kind of prank to pull us into another of your heists. I wouldn't be able to forgive or forget, and I think Weller might actually try to kill you. So, please, is this real information or a hoax?"

The silly facade dropped and he became the serious version of himself. His face relaxed and he met her eyes steadily. 

"Oh, it's all factual. I was hindered by the lack of a workstation of my own. I can get around that except for printing hard copies. Bernadetta Kruger died last year - natural causes after an illness - and she didn't have a single family member left."

Kurt exhaled, and his face lost a bit of the redness. "So this was all just part of public record," he asked suspiciously. "Does that mean she was looking for Jane and her brother?"

Rich sat up straighter. "I couldn't find out anything about your brother. I want to meet him, Jane. I'm picturing an earthy, leading man type. I like him already."

"Could you answer the question, please," she said impatiently.

"Granny was a wealthy woman, and her estate is set to release all the money to various organizations if they can't find her darling grandchildren, missing lo these many years. She was based in Sweden at the time of the big D, but I think that was mostly for this funky last-ditch medical clinic. The ancestral home is in Belgium. You're going to like it there. Great atmosphere!"

Weller was red in the face again. "Jane isn't moving to Belgium," he said tightly. 

Rich leaned back, having used up his sensible tone and maturity. He grinned at Kurt and gave a sympathetic moue. "No, she'd never leave you, and her look is very New York. But everybody retires, Stubbles, and it's a great place to raise a family," he said fondly. 

Jane glossed over Rich's fantasies for them, trying to place the idea of a grandmother. It shouldn't be startling, but she'd been orphaned twice now. 

"I don't have a way to prove I'm Alice Kruger," she said haltingly. "I don't care about money, but I would like to have the right to my birth name. I'm not sure I would go back to using it, though."

"We'll do whatever you want," Weller told her gently. "Or we'll do nothing and let the world think Alice and Ian died with their parents."

"Or you just put a ring on it, and she can use your name," Rich suggested happily. 

"Knock it off," Kurt said, taking her hand.


	4. "WHAT THE EVEN HELL, STUBBLES!?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not convinced he hasn't imagined a whole backstory where we had a torrid affair instead of arresting him."

Their relaxing lunch was a mess. Jane was preoccupied with the idea of a grandmother, and she picked at her food because he insisted they keep their plans. Kurt drank coffee and didn't even pretend to eat his own meal. He went between staring at her and out the window. 

"I told Mewes not to contact you to go see Rich ever again," he said quietly. 

She nodded. The windows had been vibrating in the panes of the door, so she'd figured it was a conversation with the CIA agent. Jane was necessarily angry she'd been called in. There was the potential to feel better once she had a passport and birth certificate. Money would be helpful if she felt Roman needed to get away from the FBI and out of the country to be safe. 

"You shouldn't be too hard on him, he couldn't have known what Rich had planned," she said sadly. "It's not even an unkind thing to do; his presentation was just really dramatic. I might look like a sideshow, but I don't think drama was ever something I enjoyed."

He put down his coffee and leaned in. "You don't look like a sideshow. If people stare, it's because you're with FBI agents running around with guns out, or because you're beautiful," he said. "You look sad right now. I blame Rich for dredging up losing your parents without any warning."

Jane shrugged. She didn't know if Rich comprehended not blurting things. He hadn't meant to upset her. She thought he was just really bored in prison and had taken up her identity gaps as a project to keep busy. He was actively trying to redeem himself and she wouldn't take away his chance to make things right.

"Do you think my grandmother knew my parents were going to be killed," Jane asked suddenly. 

Kurt would never have the authority to investigate. Telling Jane about her grandmother had brought up more questions and he wouldn't be able to give her closure. 

"I don't think there's any reason to think she'd do something like that," he told her. "And if she had, even if they were estranged, a family member would have done something for you and your brother. It seems like something impersonal, a political conspiracy to silence your parents. They didn't need to kill you and Roman, so they found somewhere you could be hidden. They couldn't risk giving you to a regular orphanage."

"They started everything else," Jane observed distantly. "I think I'm not going to say anything to Roman about this. It's too much right now. I need to figure it out for myself. Besides, I'm not even sure how long it will take to convince a foreign government to release records when I have nothing to show for myself."

 

Weller called the team together the next day, aware they were worried about Jane's near silence and the odd mood when they'd returned from prison. He was particularly concerned about having Patterson check every bit of information Rich had offered up so easily. Jane wasn't going to be the pawn in one of his scams. 

The team was quick to confirm the basic information, but digging up anything linking Jane's grandmother to the apartheid government was an obvious difficulty. She was a real person who had been related to a man who married and had a son and daughter. At some point, the whole family had disappeared, never to surface until the children were in FBI custody under different names. 

"And that's where I get stuck," Patterson said sourly. "I can hack across international borders, but that's big, big trouble and I would get caught. I'd do it if it was life or death, but I think we need to start checking our phones for somebody in the state department who might be nice enough to do us a favour."

"Especially since we need official documents that we can safely submit to the same government we'd be hacking," Reade said, pointing with his pen to a list of steps for renewing citizenship after lengthy absence. "This usually takes an immigration lawyer and a few years. If Rich can get us the real documents, we can probably figure out a lie that would let us use them."

Kurt sighed. Jane was perched carefully on the edge of her seat, a sliver of hope glowing in her eyes even as she tried to hide it. He couldn't believe his own ears when he said, "I guess we're going to visit again. Today and get home late, or leave it to tomorrow?"

She ran her hand through her hair and looked up at him. "I'd like to go now, if you don't mind."

He made a face, ending on a baffled smile. "I should mind," Kurt told her. "But I guess it has been almost 48 hours since Rich tried to sleep with you or me."

"Or both of us," Jane smiled. "He did tell me three people doesn't make an orgy, though. He sounded really sad, like he honestly thought the lack of ambiance is all that's holding us back."

"The man's an optimist and a model of healthy self-esteem," he agreed. "So, you guys can go home early. Jane and I have to go let Rich hit on us and call me names."

Tasha snickered as she put on her jacket. "You know prison sex is traditional on the third visit," she shrugged. "I feel like that's just understood. Have fun."

Jane groaned in disgust, wrinkling her nose. "I'm not convinced he hasn't imagined a whole backstory where we had a torrid affair instead of arresting him," she said, caught between frustration and laughter.

"I'm pretty sure he has Mewes convinced it was the torrid affair," Kurt agreed. "And I always lose my temper before I can explain."

Reade barely muffled a guffaw. "Your lives are so weird. I'm going home, man."

 

"I can get the official documents sent to you," Rich twinkled as he gave a little flourish with his hands. "That should be quick, like a week. Unfortunately, that's the end of my shortcuts. Once you go official, the waiting periods will be in effect and Kurt will need to sponsor your citizenship."

Jane looked at Weller with surprise. "I - didn't know that was necessary. It would be up to him if he was willing," she said hesitantly. 

"I figured the hubby was the obvious choice. Doesn't have to be him. I'd do it if they'd listen to me."

Kurt scowled and gave Rich a warning glance. "I am going to sponsor her, but we're not married. Can you please make sure none of the paperwork is ruined because you decided to fill my name in somewhere as a spouse? This is very good for Jane and would provide her a lot of protection I want her to have."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, no wish fulfillment on the documents. I'll save it for my scrapbook," Rich agreed. "You'll need to shop for a good lawyer. The estate should cover it once you have a birth certificate."

Jane had been taking notes and she frowned. "This looks like a lot of meetings and time spent. I don't know how we're going to get all this done between work and those doctor appointments."

She was attempting to talk around his prenatal checkups with Allie. Jane hated to think she was still so needy of his help both on and off the clock. She was trying to be self-sufficient, but a lot of modern life required identification and a personal history that hadn't been erased. 

"It's fine, we'll figure it out," Kurt said casually. 

"Doctors? You both look fine, but I wanna know if something is wrong," Rich fretted at them. "What's with all the appointments?"

She would have made up something about Roman's need for therapy after being drugged, but Kurt seemed eager to give up the truth. 

"Lots of doctor visits before you even have a baby, Rich," he said, his tone lingering on pride.

"Aw, you guys are having a baby?" Rich beamed at them. "That's so great! Oh my God, that's going to be cutest kid in the history of kids. Mini-munchkin, good job Stubbles!"

He looked at Jane and frowned. She glanced down at herself and anticipated the next remarks. 

"Are you sure everything's okay, though? I mean, Janie looks skinnier than before. You guys want me to get a specialist working with you? You have insurance but there's this hospital in Prague where I had a little work on my nose. Wonderful, and they were world class with everything. Change of bandages with a mani-pedi while I waited for the doctor to drop in."

Kurt cleared his throat, his hand on the bench as if he'd wanted to touch her but couldn't bring himself to do it. "Jane isn't pregnant. She's perfectly healthy."

Rich looked sympathetic. "You have a surrogate? That's cool, too. No shame in needing to go the extra mile when you want a family. I'm sorry it couldn't come more naturally, but it'll still be your kid," he said happily. 

Jane winced. "Not ours, Rich, Kurt's daughter," she said plainly. "From a relationship a little while ago."

Rich dropped his hands into his lap, the shackles rattling violently. "WHAT THE EVEN HELL, STUBBLES!?"

He forgot he was chained to the bench and popped up only to hunch painfully and sit back down. Rich gestured with both hands to Jane and up to the ceiling with a look of utter defeat. 

"I am more than pulling my weight to make this whole - Jeller thing work out. I am honestly putting a lot of myself into all of these little 'manipulations'," he air-quoted furiously, making so many faces Jane was tempted to laugh. 

"I am attempting to fix that obscene imbalance of power you two had going. I'm getting Jane her inheritance and her citizenship, not that it isn't her right anyway. So far, you've treated her with suspicion, arrested her, abandoned her and now you knocked up someone else? I really am beginning to feel all her obvious and clearly plentiful love might not be enough to keep this ship from sinking!"

Kurt was red in the face from rage, and Jane was just mortified. She put a hand out and got his arm before he could swing. "I'm not angry. He's excited and I'm happy for him. Children are good things, even when the timing is a little difficult," she said calmly. "Kurt is going to be a good father and I don't think anyone should begrudge him that."

She could feel some of the wrath drain away under her hand, and Rich slumped into the table and knocked his forehead with a little thump. When he came back up, he extended a hand and looked sheepish. 

"I'm sorry. Kurt, you will be a good father, and I'm happy for you," Rich told him civilly. "I overreacted."

Hesitating a moment, the FBI agent shook his hand and nodded tightly. "Thank you. I do appreciate the help you're giving Jane. She does deserve to have the security of citizenship. And an inheritance would be a good buffer if things go wrong and she feels leaving the U.S. is the best idea."

Rich turned to her and tapped the table. "I'm going to get you a lawyer, he's going to make sure it's your name on everything and get some paperwork to get you pre-nupped. I want to believe in this whole thing," Rich told her, gesturing to indicate all three of them around the table for some version of his own logic, "-but I also want you to have that money for yourself and your brother. Just in case Stubble's virility escapes the cage more than once. If you do have a kid together, it would be nice if there was something left over after all the step-kids."

Jane came close to rolling her eyes, but she was grateful for Rich's help. It was a little satisfying to let him rant at Kurt about his falling into bed with other women. There was a big difference between understanding he wanted his child and shutting down her disappointment in yet another obstacle.

"He's not my husband, Rich," she reminded the hacker. "But what's Jeller?"

Fluffing his curls arrogantly, he crossed his arms. "He might not be official, but you two are definitely Jeller. Jane plus Weller makes Jeller. It's obvious. I think it's a great name. Now I have to come up with a blended family version for all the amnesiac brothers and future babies."


	5. Watership Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know how Rich has suggestions about our personal lives," she asked darkly. "Well, he's taken the very great liberty of making sure we have the documents to apply for dual U.S-South African citizenship for anyone else who might need it in future."
> 
> He knew she was talking about Rich's inability to believe they weren't a couple, but he wasn't getting her meaning. "You need to have a parent with citizenship or dual citizenship - he's trying to breed us like rabbits, isn't he?"

Jane had been expecting an envelope of documents when Rich's contact came through with her paperwork, but she got a courier envelope large enough to fit her torso. She couldn't give out her own mailing address, so it was delivered to the New York FBI offices, scanned two times before leaving the first floor, and then scanned a third paranoid time before Patterson would let them open it. 

"I just don't think it should be that heavy," Kurt said grudgingly. He'd wanted to refuse it and demand it be repackaged into smaller, less threatening packages of letter size. It was only Jane's quiet excitement that had convinced him the x-ray machine was sufficient. "You wouldn't need seventeen pounds of paper to start a country."

The soul of patience with Rich since the hacker had started trying to help her, Jane tilted her head. "You did demand all his research in hard copy. Rich is pretty good at what he does with computers," she said innocently. 

The potential for hurt feelings and unknowingly exposing her to long ago threats was putting him on edge. Kurt was happy for her, but she was only thinking about the positives of the situation. Citizenship would give Jane and her brother legal protections. Presenting themselves to a foreign government might reveal the same enemies that had killed their parents or used them as child soldiers. 

Jane was getting secure in herself in the present. Rich was losing all his privileges if his screwing around in her past brought more danger and disappointment to her. 

Kurt had blocked out some time for Patterson to vet the information from a technical angle, Reade and Zapata tackling it as intelligence to be used to link back to Sandstorm. He and Jane had to find the relevant papers to bring to a lawyer to get her citizenship proceedings started. 

By the time the whole package was opened, they had more than twenty large envelopes with sparse labeling. 

"Birth certificate," Jane said, finding it with a grab and a smile. "Maybe I had a middle name. I always wondered."

He smiled back, pushing around the other envelopes and trying to make organized stacks. Some were marked with website URLs, and those were Patterson's. Some were more general information Rich had used to narrow down his searches. One was labeled 'Crime Scene Report' and he pulled it from the rest to look at himself when Jane wasn't around to see. 

She had opened the birth certificate envelope and pulled out about a dozen sheets. "Oh. Okay, well those are," she hesitated, staring at them. "That's not what I was thinking."

He recognized something in her tone that wasn't as simple as just being puzzled. Kurt turned to look and she brought them against her chest quickly. 

"They're just extras, blank with nothing filled in. It's not useful," Jane said. 

He blinked, his mouth set in a tight line. "So I can see them."

"Sure." She cringed. "Could you take my word for it that you don't want to?"

The rest of the team was watching them, with varying levels of amusement. Kurt nodded. "I trust you. I don't trust Rich. And I had to sign these papers into the building, so I need to know if there's anything in them that constitutes a security issue, particularly because these documents came from another country."

Jane tipped her chin at Patterson leaning in closer. Reade was playing it cooler, but Zapata just watched them like an afternoon soap opera. 

"You know how Rich has suggestions about our personal lives," she asked darkly. "Well, he's taken the very great liberty of making sure we have the documents to apply for dual U.S-South African citizenship for anyone else who might need it in future."

He knew she was talking about Rich's inability to believe they weren't a couple, but he wasn't getting her meaning. "You need to have a parent with citizenship or dual citizenship - he's trying to breed us like rabbits, isn't he?"

Jane dropped the pages to the table. "He had names filled in, and years. I'm surprised he didn't try to assign birthdays based on some kind of crazy math," she said, pained. 

Kurt read through, noticing the first kid was apparently expected sometime in 2018. "Richard is in here twice, once as a first name and once as a middle name," he said sourly. "I'm surprised he didn't - One of these has Dotcom for a first name for a girl."

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Might as well go for it and just name your poor kid Bully Me Weller so they know why they're getting picked on. Anyway, um, those are not useful. And there are twelve of them! I'm not entirely certain Rich isn't trying to kill me in childbirth so he can have you for himself."

One of the other women squeaked a laugh she muffled. It was impossible to tell which one. They went back to opening their own envelopes. 

"Let's move on," Weller said. He gathered the papers and tried to shove them into the envelope. "'Horatio?' I think he might be trying to kill you and then get our kids beaten to death at school."

Jane took the envelope and put it all the way down the far side of the table, where no one was sitting. "We'll just make a pile for the obvious silliness. Rich does have a lot of free time in prison to brainstorm," she said mildly.

The sorting was mostly normal, though they did find a list of wedding venues in South Africa, should they decide to make things official in Jane's birthplace. Rich must have had someone request brochures from resorts. They weren't printed from websites, but were actual glossy fold-outs with gorgeous photos.

"It's sad we can't get him to focus all this helpfulness," Jane said brightly. "He's really very good at it."

Kurt had a single sheet he held up. "Alice Victoria Kruger," he said, pleased. 

Jane had a full name and a birthday. She knew her parents names and Rich had promised to go back and find a certificate for Roman. It would be a while before things could be sourced and validated. It would be even longer to file paperwork through a lawyer and have official recognition of Jane's new identity.

She was admiring the birth certificate, repeating the name to herself and trying it out. He smiled at her gently and went for the next envelope. It was a brick, surely an excess of paperwork. Maybe it was more research, because he had to give Rich credit for putting a lot of time and effort into finding Jane's past. He was expecting the need to grant additional immunity for the hacking involved once they looked at the websites used, but Kurt could handle a little dent in the rules. 

He wasn't expecting to see a financial statement that estimated Alice Kruger's inheritance in the hundreds of millions of dollars. He also wasn't expecting a bundle of papers demanding he sign over any claim to her money except a token settlement of $2 million dollars per every year of marriage or living as common law spouses, barring infidelity on his part. 

Jane had noticed his fuming and put down her birth certificate in pride of place at the middle of the table. 

"What's wrong," she asked. "Is Rich trying to get us to adopt pets and giving them names already?"

"He thinks I'm a gold digger," Kurt said, gritting his teeth. "He thinks I'm a cheating, lying gold digger."

He slapped the prenuptual agreement down on the table. 

Jane couldn't even provide much comfort, because she was nearly going into shock looking at her list of assets. If Kurt were a gold digger, it wouldn't have mattered. 

She seemed to be on her way to owning an actual gold mine.

 

They had to go back to follow up with Rich, and it was booked at the prison, or they would have left it to another day. The problem was now Kurt and Rich didn't seem like speaking to one another at all, and Jane was wrestling with the knowledge her identity came with a whole set of problems she'd never faced.

She had no intention of having twelve babies with Weller, named in variations after 'Uncle Rich' as the hacker had started calling himself. The prenup would never be used, and not just because it was an outrage to suggest the man who took care of her when she didn't even have a shirt on her back had been chasing her for an inheritance. 

Jane liked having a sense of self, and she wanted the same for her brother. If one day her focus switched to dating and family life, she hoped she chose the right man. She wasn't worried about having to pay out on some divorce that meant she'd managed to be happily married at one point. 

She didn't truthfully see herself divorcing at all, if her husband was still willing to work on the marriage. Her largely theoretical dating history meant she'd at least been able to commit before she became a billboard for rogue government operations.

She had to get a photo and description of Roman to Rich. They weren't supposed to be using him to hack anything, least of all something without any stake in the good of the American public. Conversation was meant to cover the handoff.

Kurt was sitting with crossed arms, glaring, and Rich seemed inclined to talk only with Jane. She had a lot of questions, but Agent Mewes had noticed the frosty mood and called her out of the room.

"I can't have the prisoner dying," he said quietly. "I don't really follow what goes on in there, but these visits happen under my supervision."

The personal stuff wasn't really anything to do with the CIA, but Jane knew Mewes probably had to report back to someone. She looked at him apologetically. He was looking a little stressed. 

"Kurt won't hurt him. He's just upset Rich thinks he's a gold digger. We all know money isn't what the problem is. There's another woman who's having his baby, and Rich really feels let down," Jane offered. 

"So Weller has moved on?" Mewes looked almost happy to have figured it out.

That was a bit of a leap, and her sympathy fled. "No, he and the mother of his child aren't together."

"So he cheated . . . " The CIA agent said haltingly. 

He was cringing again, and Jane felt bad for trying to keep him guessing. She could see now why Weller had never just said directly that there were no actual romantic relationships happening. Mewes had a certain smug nosiness to his phrasing that always made her hate him a little. She liked him a little better when he was struggling to grasp why Rich Dotcom was doing or saying anything that crossed his mind.

"No. I wasn't with him at the time. I'm happy for him. He needs a little normal in his life," she said stiffly.

"So you're forgiving him?"

"Yes, exactly! But not . . . like that. Rich keeps calling us married, doesn't he? We're not. We were never. It was just that one time undercover and I guess we were convincing." And she did have a few hard feelings about the whole accidental baby timing, which was probably splitting hairs considering the other things they'd both forgiven.

Wheels were turning for Mewes and he tossed out a guess. "So Weller and Rich had a thing, though?"

"No, Weller is straight and Rich is hung up on Boston Arliss Crab."

The spit and polished business haircut could barely contain the straining of brain cells "But you and Weller are together now? And maybe Rich a little bit?"

"No, none of those are things."

"So they are in a fight?"

"Yes."

"But what is the fight about?"

Jane thought about it for a moment. She'd been sure she knew, but really, Weller should care less and so should Rich. Seeing both men so hard-headed and angry did make it seem like more of a personal relationship than the weirdly personal way Rich squirmed into emotionally volatile spots and made himself at home.

"Rich is offended on my behalf and Kurt is offended on his own. Also, Rich thinks we're going to name our kids after him, and that is overstepping. I have to go back in, because the longer they're alone the more likely Rich gives up the silent treatment and gets Kurt more upset."

Mewes wasn't sure who to believe. When he had it sorted out, it seemed so clear there was no relationship. But there was something, and the plan for future children and a shared step-child, apparently.

His office had spent most of the past week arranging for a premium jewelry assortment to be loaned to Jane Doe under Rich Dotcom's assurance every stone and setting would be treated kindly and returned with payment for any selections kept by the couple. Not everything was a wedding ring but there were plenty of wedding sets on the list. It was the furthest thing from nothing going on he'd ever seen..

They were a couple of so-and-sos, and he didn't know the government jargon to politely report they were messing with his head every time he saw them 'unwillingly' visit Rich Dotcom multiple times a week.

Mewes looked in, and saw all three of them were in a fight now. It looked like something. He was going to google what it was when more than three people formed a relationship, or just start calling it a mess.

"Dotty Weller is a great name," Rich insisted loudly. "I'm just trying to be supportive here, Stubbles!"


End file.
